


Untitled

by Anonymous



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anonymeme, F/M, Golf, Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/pseuds/Anonymous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the kink meme prompt: "Eames (age 27/28ish) is a rich golfer staying and playing at Saito's country club. Arthur (age 17/18ish, depending if you want him underage or not) is an employee there who is given the job of being his personal (yeah, Eames is that rich) lackey during his two month stay there. Arthur has to be his caddy, fetch him things, order room service for him, shine his shoes, blah blah blah. He often has to remind Eames he was not hired for sexual favors."</p><p> I don't claim any right to this story. Original link and more in the author's note.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my work. I am posting it here because I loved it and it is difficult to find stories in the kink meme livejournal page, I wanted people to have a more easy access to it. I also wanted to post anonymously so as not to seem like I was trying someone's else work but I couldn't find a way.
> 
> I want to underline again that THIS IS NOT MY WORK. Here is the original livejournal link: http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/18462.html?thread=41396766#t41396766
> 
> IF YOU ARE/KNOW THE ORIGINAL AUTHOR AND WANT ME TO TAKE THIS DOWN JUST ASK!

Arthur doesn't know yet how Eames acquired his apparently vast fortune. This bugs him - he likes to know a little bit about his clients (which makes it sound like he's a hooker, but he'll be damned if he's going to call any of these overpaid snobs 'master'. Ugh.). Fortunately, Eames doesn't seem to mind him asking. He's kneeling on the floor while Eames watches him polish his golf cleats.

"Was it a winning streak at Vegas?" Arthur inquires.

"No, but your romantic illusions about gambling are most entertaining." Eames says sardonically.

"Mr. Eames, your shoes are shined." He gives the mirror sheen of the leather a last huff, and polishes away the mist. Flawless.

"I don't suppose I could persuade you to... remain kneeling for a little while?" Eames says slyly.

"Was it the stock exchange?" Arthur guesses.

"That's a very boring guess." Eames objects. "Let's try to make this interesting. If you get it right in the next three guesses, I'll double your salary. If you don't, we're golfing shirtless this afternoon."

"That's harrassment. Also, I'll get sunburn."

"I will be more than happy to apply sunscreen to as much of your skin as you'll let me." 

Arthur blushes. He's pretty sure Saito would let him be someone else's lackey, but Eames... well, it's the least bored Arthur's been all summer.

"Ariadne puts on the sunscreen - *if* I lose."

"Deal" Eames grins, and Arthur is suddenly a little short of breath. Dammit. You shouldn't be *able* to have a crush on anyone once you've picked up his dirty laundry.

"Inherited?"

"No."

"Dot-com investment?"

"No."

"Fraud?" Arthur throws out desperately.

"Alas, no, dear Arthur. Now, I believe it's your lunch break. I shall see you at two on the green."

"Dammit. Yes, Mr Eames." Arthur fumes his way out the door. It's not that he's ashamed - but he's seventeen, and public humiliation is its own kind of hell. He really hopes Eames doesn't laugh, or he won't be held responsible for what he does with those goddamn golf clubs.

Ariadne is entirely unsympathetic as she helps Arthur find and apply sunscreen in a closet off the staff lounge.

"I'm pretty sure Eames would double your salary if you just let him do this." she says, rubbing the sunscreen into Arthur's shoulders with a business-like hand.

"I am not a hooker, and my god I have had to say that to far too many people at this club. When I was delivering newspapers I never had this trouble." Arthur complains.

"It's because you've blossomed into manhood, Arthur." Ariadne says tenderly, and he tries to hit her with her own dishtowel in retaliation. The shrieking draws attention.

"Ari? Where - oh." Dom turns red, tries vainly not to look upset, and barrels on. "Um, where are the glasses? Also, we need you out there serving lunch, not-" He waves a hand at Arthur's shiny torso.

"We're not-" Arthur says quickly, snatching up his uniform polo shirt.

"Dom, I'm just helping Arthur prep for caddying. I'll be out there as soon as I've washed my hands - It's sunscreen! Oh, fuck." Ariadne says forlornly as Dom exits with his wounded puppy-dog eyes.

"Shit, sorry, Ari. I can help explain to him later, if you want?"

"Bless you, little Arthur. It's okay. I'll get through to him eventually." Ariadne smiles ruefully. "He's kind of the dramatic type, huh."

"Brooding, manly, prone to jealousy? Check." Arthur deadpans. "You liked Mr Darcy, too, didn't you?"

"Oh fuck, I actually did." she laughs. "Well, enough of my luckless love-life. Time for your date with destiny. Take the sunscreen. Who knows what uses you'll find for it?"

Arthur flips her the bird as he heads out, just on principle.

Eames is waiting at the start of the first hole. To Arthur's entirely unjustified surprised, Eames appears to have misplaced his shirt.

"But my dear boy," Eames widens his eyes, "I said *we* would be playing shirtless! Of course I wouldn't leave you to shiver alone." He eyes Arthur's peaking nipples appreciatively, but makes no further comment.

"Right." Arthur mumbles. He's so distracted it takes him a few tries to set up Eames' ball.

Eames' back muscles shift under his sweat-beaded skin as he takes his shot.

"Good stroke, sir." Arthur says hoarsely.

"Thank you." Eames inclines his head regally, laughing a little. "Shall we?" He holds the door of the cart open for Arthur, who gets in, feeling gawky.

As they putter off towards the ball Arthur grabs a bottle of Evian from the coolbox and takes a long drink, throat working as he nearly drains the bottle. The cart judders as Eames runs over a rock, and the rest of the bottle empties itself over Arthur.

"Shit, sorry." Eames says. "I was a bit distracted there." He's still looking at Arthur, and Arthur gulps a little because, wow, Eames looks like he's ready to lick every drop of water from Arthur's skin.

"Uh. Ball." Arthur says, intelligently. He's glad his pants are pretty baggy, or Eames would be getting even more of a show.

"Right, yes. Golf." Eames slams on the brakes, and Arthur winces at what that's going to do to Yusuf's lovingly maintained turf. They get out, only about twenty yards past the golf ball.

"Distracted?" Arthur lifts an eyebrow.

"Darling, I can't believe you come free with my room." Eames says appreciatively.

"I don't come free with- oh, for crying out loud." Arthur says disapprovingly as Eames creases up. "I am not a hooker! Sexual favours are not included in your room fee!"

"This is the best holiday ever." Eames says.

"Caddying is a skill!"

"And you are a marvellous caddy. And lackey. And I don't," Eames says, casting Arthur a smouldering look,"pay for sex. In case you were wondering."

"Good." Arthur stomps off, flustered, to pull the flag out of the first hole, allowing Eames to gently putt the ball to its resting place.

"So about your fortune," Arthur says, heaving the clubs onto his back. The strap is rough and chafing without his shirt. They walk over to the start of the second hole.

"I'll save you one guess. I am not, nor have I ever been, an underwear model." Arthur laughs. "The 5-iron, I think." Eames holds out a hand. Arthur pulls the club out, hand curling round the head, and places the leather-clad shaft gently in Eames' hand.

"Watch out for the sandpit," he murmurs, pointing right, and Eames nods. Arthur lets him take the shot before his next guess.

"Imported luxury cheeses?"

"Cheese smuggling? While it would explain where I get my pickup lines"-Arthur snorts involuntarily at this-"no. Think rarer."

"Beef smuggling?"

"Hah! No." They get back in the cart. "I'm finding this a little one-sided. New rule: for every two guesses, I get to ask a question about you."

"Sure."

"How old are you?"

"You never specified that I have to answer these questions, so... none of your business?"

"That's just unfair." Eames pouts.

"Fine," Arthur laughs, "I'm seventeen. Was it the music industry?"

"No." Eames says, sounding a little shocked. "You, ah, you look older."

"Thanks."

They drive in silence for a while. When they get out, Arthur bends over to get his hat out from behind his seat.

"Shit." Eames says, and drops his club.

"What?"

"I'm corrupting a minor. Do you want to put your shirt back on?"

"I left it at the club- wait, what?"

"All the... sexual harrassment. Oh god, I called you a hooker."

"You - Mr. Eames, you're getting sunburn already." Arthur says, suddenly noticing the bright pink skin of Eames' shoulders. "Didn't you put on sunscreen?"

"No - look, put a shirt on. I brought an extra."

"You first." Arthur crosses his arms.

Eames pulls out two shirts, one orange and one in maroon paisley.

"Those are disgusting," Arthur informs him, "I'll take the maroon one."

"I appreciate your condescension, jailbait."

"Oh please, like I couldn't shut you down in a heartbeat if I wanted to."

"Show me." Eames says, challenging, but with anxiety showing through. Clearly, it's important to him that Arthur hasn't been traumatised by his association with an extremely hot, rich, slightly older man.

There's a whirl of action, and very shortly Arthur has Eames pinned face-down in some extremely expensive turf.

"If I hadn't wanted to... to keep flirting with you, I wouldn't have." Arthur tells him. "And I do teach Krav Maga, so don't think you can push me around."

"Oh thank god," Eames says, muffled. "I have never been happier to be ignominously beaten up." Arthur releases him, but doesn't move away.

"While it is hilarious to see you this worried, it's also freaking me out after all this blatant sexual harrassment. I feel like I hardly know you." 

Eames pulls himself together.

"Arthur, you're immensely attractive and intelligent and I would deeply love to tenderly deflower you in, say, a year."

"That's more like it." Arthur turns away and does some entirely unnecessary golf club tidying. "And-" he takes a deep breath "-that would be great. But, um, my birthday is next week, so maybe sooner?"

"I take it back." Eames says, sounding delighted. "I am yours to command as soon as you've blown out the candles on the ridiculously expensive cake I'm getting you."

"You can't buy me, Mr Eames."

"I'm wooing you."

"Okay. But just so you know, you really,-" Arthur steps forward, lifting his hands to graze Eames' abs "-really,-" he runs his lips up Eames' neck to his ear "don't have to."

"Oh god, I'm going to die of sexual frustration before your birthday, aren't I." Eames says breathlessly.

This is going to be *so much fun*, Arthur thinks smugly. "I'll see what I can arrange."


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur changes his jeans three times in increasing exasperation, then goes back to the first pair. He stares despairingly at his hair. Then he calls Ariadne.

"Ari, I need you not to laugh at me for this."

"I make no promises. Go on."

"Should I wear cologne tomorrow? Does Eames like cologne? Will Converse be okay or should I buy real shoes?"

"No, I don't know, yes, no, and my god, Arthur how are you so nervous? He likes you. He's not going to care if you're wearing a dress as long as you show up."

"Thanks."

"I'd better go - See ya, birthday boy."

As soon as he puts the phone down, it starts ringing again.

"Ari?"

"This is Saito, Arthur. I have an errand for you."

"Mr. Saito? Yes, of course sir." Arthur mentally curses. He'd kind of been hoping to have the evening to psych himself up for tomorrow. Things had kind of arranged themselves so that he was doing all of his celebrating after his birthday - mostly with Eames.

"It is minor." Arthur can imagine Saito's grandly dismissive handwave. "I require you to pick up an order from Gemini Flowers. Deliver it to me at the club bar at eight precisely."

Arthur glances at the clock. It's half seven.

"Yes, sir. Do you-" 

"Thank you." The dial tone sounds in his ear. Arthur pulls on his rattiest sneakers and heads for the door - he'll have to run to make it in time.

He pulls up his Mom's Volvo in the staff parking garage at seven fifty-eight, and barely pauses to lock it before running carefully towards the bar, trying to keep the large white box from Gemini as steady as possible. He hopes the flowers, whatever they are, aren't fragile.

The bar is dark when he gets there. He checks his watch - 8.01 - and walks into a table. 

"Shit." 

The lights go on and suddenly there are balloons and streamers everywhere.

"SURPRISE!"

"Holy fuck, you nearly gave me a heart attack." Arthur says, putting down the box just in time to be hug-tackled by Ariadne.

"I take it we managed to surprise you, darling." Eames smiles at him. "Did you really think I would let you get away without having a birthday party?"

"Mr. Saito -" Saito himself appears from behind the table. He's holding his champagne flute like a man far too dignified to lie to an employee.

"Many happy returns." All Arthur's fellow caddies, the bar staff, and even a couple of his friends from high school are milling around a long table of refreshments.

"Oh damn." Eames looks worriedly at the table. "Where's that cake?"

"I had Arthur pick up his cake from the neighbouring flower store. It seemed neater." Saito raises an eyebrow at Ariadne's laugh, and saunters over to talk to Dom's assistant, who appears overjoyed by the attention.

The cake is chocolate, smooth, brown and sinfully rich, with 'Happy 18th, Arthur Darling' written on it in white chocolate. Arthur makes sure to cut slices through the 'Darling' first. There are cheers and toasts, and Arthur gets his first official drink from the bar: champagne. It's light and bubbly on his tongue. As people break up in to chattering groups again, Eames leans over to breathe in Arthur's ear.

"So, did you get what you wanted for your birthday?"

"Not yet, but I'm pretty sure you'll give it to me." Arthur murmurs into his drink.

"Whenever you want it, Arthur." Eames says, voice a little too low to sound like he's joking.

"I have one question, before you do."

"What?"

"What is it that you do, exactly?”

Eames looks sheepish, and it's so unexpected Arthur starts to worry.

“I was going to wait till later, but -” He brings out a small, expensively wrapped box about the size of his fist.

“Eames, come on, you already got me a cake.”

“It's an answer as well as a gift.”

Arthur opens it, frowning a little unconsciously. The watch inside is beautiful, sleek steel, unornamented and the perfect weight for Arthur's wrist.

“This is what I do. I make these – and other things. Jewellery, some art pieces.” Eames shrugs a little. “I used to just make copies, but then I moved up in the world.”

“It's too much-”

“It's yours. I thought of it the moment I saw you.” Arthur holds it indecisively for a moment, then clips it deftly around his wrist. It's pretty much a declaration, and they both know it.

"Come on. Let me show you the cupboard in the staffroom." Arthur grabs Eames' sleeve.

"Interesting, is it?"

"Practically unique. I'll give you the tour."

"How could I refuse?"

Arthur tries to exit unobtrusively, but Ariadne does spot him and Eames in time to silently raise her glass to them. Arthur blushes, but keeps moving.

"I'm ridiculously charmed by how easily you blush, especially considering your filthy mind." Eames says as Arthur drags him into the closet. They had talked through a number of... scenarios in the week before Arthur's birthday. It had been more fun than most of the actual sex Arthur had had up to this point in his life.

Arthur can't think of an intelligent reply, so he holds Eames' face between his hands and kisses him, a little too hard.

Eames' mouth yields like fresh fruit, soft and wet. Arthur takes his fill, building up until every inch of them is pressed together and he's trying to fuck Eames with his tongue. Eames disengages, briefly, to start sucking and biting his way down Arthur's neck.

"Oh christ," Arthur gasps. "You - you vampire."

"Mmmm." Eames agrees, licking the curve of Arthur's ear. "we vampires do love to golf." Arthur laughs, then moans as Eames bites his earlobe.

"Just – oh - so you know, I'm not doing this for the watch.”

“Just so you know – I'm planning to do this to you again next year.”


End file.
